Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE **Hey all, I edited the chapter a bit to clear up the rock issue. Tell me what you think! Thanks for bringing it to my attention, btw**

The hills of the Highlands literally started about three hundred yards from the border. They stood in sharp outline against the night sky, the grass on their tops waving in the soft breeze. Varian crouched four hundred feet away from them. Excitement pounded hot through his veins. The land of his mother—the land of Dragons and mountains—the land Kerrin had lived in and told him stories about. Before too long, he'd be in that land, wandering amongst the shades of legends.

There was only one slight obstacle.

Two glowing fires stood about two hundred feet apart, marking just a couple of the many patrol camps along the short Highland-Lowland border. Varian snuggled down further into the leaves and scrub brush, watching the men around the fire.

They didn't seem to be doing much—just sitting around eating and drinking. Drinking a little too much, in his mind. Who appointed these people to patrol the border? No wonder we have so many problems with Highlanders coming in and getting hurt.

He stood into a half-crouch and moved forward. The tall grass was both a help and a hindrance. A help, in that it hid him from the soldiers' sight. A hindrance because if they looked over his way, seeing the swaying grass would put them on alert.

Varian skirted the camp's left side, aiming for a spot between the two watchfires that was completely dark. If he could slip through there undetected, he knew it would be easy to get away.

He stopped for a moment, resting one hand on the ground to balance himself. He took a soft, deep breath. Almost there. Just through the gap and I'll be free in the Highlands.

A gentle rustling wrenched his attention forward. A man-shape rose out of the grass, blocking the stars. Varian lowered himself to the ground, peering upward through his bangs. The man's head swiveled from side to side. Then he called to one of the men at the right-side watchfire.

"Did you see anyone?"

"No. You?"

"Thought I did. Help me search."

"Are you crazy? I don't want to leave a warm fire and search for a nonexistent bogeyman. It's probably just one of those Highlanders trying to get back to his land. Let him, I say."

"Get out here! I could report you for that—that's treason talk, you know it is!"

The men grumbled and muttered as they stood up and grabbed weapons. Varian almost rose, then lowered himself back down when he saw one man pick up a longbow. Too chancy, even if the archer's eyes were still blinded by the firelight.

The men began picking their way through the grass. The two from the fire veered left, out of his vision. He could see the one who had risen from the grass as a moving black shadow against the dark navy blue sky. The sounds of dried grass crunching underfoot drowned out everything else, even his own breathing. Varian knew his heart was beating only by the tight pounding he felt in his gut.

A boot slammed down, barely missing his shoulder. Varian flinched and closed his eyes. His shoulders tightened. Waiting. For the connection with his body, the shouts of surprise, hands grabbing him—

But none of that happened. The owner of the boots moved on. Varian muffled a sigh in his sleeve, then crawled forward. His shoulder wound ached, but he repeated Onna's words to himself—It's only a scratch—and moved on.

The glow of the fire filtered through the grass as he drew close to the camp. Varian rolled onto his back, searching for a sign of the guards. Nothing. He looked at the camp. The fire illuminated two sagging tents and several empty ale casks tipped on their side. But no men.

He raised his body on his elbows, scanning above the grass. He could barely see the soldiers, working their way along the edge of the forest. They had their backs to him.

Varian stood up and sprinted for the hills. He angled for the closest one and hoped they couldn't see him against the dark grass background. If they did, one shout, one arrow, would be all it would take.

He shoved the possibility away from his mind. Then, he thought he heard the soft swish of an arrow. Varian threw himself to the ground. A stinging pain exploded in the middle of his back. He rolled to his side, clawed between his shoulder blades, searching for the arrow embedded in his flesh.

Nothing. Varian pulled his hand away and stared at it in the moonlight. No blood. He looked over his shoulder. The soldiers were still searching the woods. Varian scanned the ground where he'd first landed. A white chunk of granite gleamed between the blades of grass. Here and there, other chunks of white granite just like it studded the hills.

Varian chuckled and felt between his shoulders blades again. His fingers touched a swelling, bruised area and he winced, then restrained the urge to laugh aloud. A rock! That's what he'd been afraid of—a simple rock.

He got up and continued his journey into the hills, bunching a fist to his mouth in an effort to muffle his laughter.

***

Dark eyes watched the young warrior stand and walk away. The rider slipped the arrow into his quiver and settled into his hulking mount's saddle. In a near-silent swish, they were gone to keep an eye on the intruder from above.

***

"He's gone, I tell you!"

Jevran opened his eyes and sighed. What was Danilos bellowing about this early in the morning? He squinted at his open windows. The sun was rising—he could tell that by the sight of purplish, mist-enshrouded hills to the north, over the border.

Jevran sat up and got dressed to the sound of Danilos and Beno's bickering. Then he stomped over and jerked open the door.

The to men glanced at him. Beno's face flushed. Danilos reared his head back, like a striking snake. Snake, Jevran thought. That's a good one for him.

"I'm sorry, sire," Beno said. "Danilos insisted on waking you, and I was trying to convince him to wait just a little longer."

"Thank you, Beno." Jevran glared at Danilos. "And what, pray, was so urgent that you felt the need to wake me before my normal hour?"

Danilos rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "You shouldn't have mounted a guard on him. Or thrown him in the dungeons. Fitting for a traitor."

"Who, Varian?"

"Who else? Now he's gone! Ran off yesterday afternoon or evening, I guess, though they just discovered his absence a few minutes ago. I can bet that the traitor's brats and that herb witch helped him."

Jevran stepped forward until he was inches away from Danilos' face. Danilos quieted, but didn't even make a pretense of shrinking.

"First off, tell me what you were doing that included checking on Varian in the last hour of Lastwatch. I gave orders that he wasn't to be disturbed."

"I sent two soldiers to bring him to the Council Room."

Beno choked. "For what?"

"I called an emergency council."

Danilos' cool eyes slid from Jevran to Beno and back. He smiled—a hint of a smile that told Jevran the man was immensely satisfied with what he had done. He was sure of himself—sure that he was immune to the king's wrath. Jevran ground his teeth.

"Only a king has the authority to call an emergency council," Beno said.

"Unless there is sufficient reason to doubt the king's integrity in this case. We were, after all, to be trying the king's half-brother—and while everyone knows that there's not much love lost between them, Jevran did seem very defensive of Varian yesterday."

Jevran felt his heart skip. He swallowed. Danilos had him there. The laws did allow for such cases. He licked his lips, tasted a trace of sweat. "Call a council for the first hour of the Afternoon. We'll settle it then."